To Porcelain, To Ivory, To Steel
by violetrhythms
Summary: Marshall Lee teetered back into her life like an apoplectic rage of sugar. Frankly Bubblegum should've never sent that party invitation to Aaa. To Marceline, all he is, is a reminder of how much she regrets being eighteen.


_**Summary: **Marshall Lee teetered back into her life like an apoplectic rage of sugar. Frankly Bubblegum should've never sent that party invitation to Aaa. To Marceline, all he is, is a reminder of how much she regrets being eighteen.  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Marshall Lee and Marceline centric_

* * *

**1000**

* * *

"_Will you nimrods shut it._"

She hisses and hisses over and over, only Princess Bubblegum nor the heroic duo aren't really listening because they're all currently occupied with some sort of magic trick, all this hullabaloo over a little fire and ice. Vampires aren't believers of magic tricks and whatnot, whatever they're calling it these days.

Marceline is a thousand years old- magic does little to impress her.

Bubblegum, laughs breezily as she glances over Marceline's way, "We're having a celebration over at the Candy Kingdom next week, I invited the Land of Aaa to come along." The girl tinted heavily in pink and reeked of strawberry, cherry, watermelon bubblegum, all that was drenched in a hue of roses and more, Bubblegum could never resist a party, nor the chance to show off her _wondrous kingdom. _

"Great." The Vampire Queen starts dryly, "It'll be a blast."

* * *

**18**

* * *

Marceline is **eighteen** years old.

Yes, her father's right- she's never been more afraid before in her life, and she doesn't quite know what to do with the skies raining war cries and missiles sweeping the starlights off the azure. Maybe this is an unconventional beauty; 'indigo sunsets paved with scintillating flames overlapping the heavens'- her last boyfriend had made her a poetic sap- and she isn't sure she likes this new depth to all the hatred. Shivers rake her back- she's hiding in the depths of solitude, waiting for someone to come pick her up perhaps, or to stop all the screaming. Murmuring to herself, she traces circles on her palm to calm her down, all she wants is quiet and tranquility in her mind once again. **  
**

Her mother died in the last raid- she assumes. No human could've made that last blow.

She refused to allow Hunson to turn her; she argued that she simply had to die a human.

Her father had extended the same offer to her, courteously suave with his quick wit, "_fully engaged vampire, no side-effects, well, maybe except the constant hunger, but that's not really an issue._"

Maybe her mother never wanted to live forever, but Marceline doesn't want to die in the middle of a solemn wreckage with nothing but a broken corpse to show her life's work. So she decides she'll take her father up on his offer. It takes her awhile to stand up because she's quivering uncontrollably with turbulent pandemonium, her heart hammers and thumps like the screeching bullets that strike down all in its churlish path. Finally she does manage to reach for the phone in her back pocket, her fingers flutter over the numbers she's learnt by heart.

_"I'll do it."_

* * *

The night soon arrives and she waits, ardently so.

Marceline is still only** eighteen** years old.

But having waited only six hours in the dark has felt like millennia's crossing her time stream.

Her father tells her to wait after the phone call, it's all a matter of time and virtuous patience he says. Not that she'd ever believe her father is really a man of virtue and honor. The fire that sizzles weakly in the darkness dies out rather quickly, and now she's left with little next to nothing.

She still waits, ardently so.

The sounds of cantankerous yells and demeaning shells quaking in the corner of her hearing dims down as the night drifts off deeper.

This free time now gives her the chance to wallow in the sad nostalgia she's kept in the back of her mind-

"Marceline is it?"

Her feet shuffle gauchely and she's so surprised that there's really another voice- hopefully she's not hallucinating again this time- another presence next to her, that she stumbles backwards. Vermillion rushes to her ears as she feels the redness tinge her cheeks. Of course she had to make an absolute fool of herself in front of another living (well frankly- unliving) being. Not that it matters really, she's disgruntled, her face is smeared with the darkest shades of grey and her lips are chapped and pasty to an unbearable extent.

"Yes." The sultry-ness in her voice is gone, it's hoarse and dry.

She doesn't realize it but their eyes meet for the first time and she's taken aback. She had certainly been expecting one of her father's colleagues but definitely not one so... young looking, nor one quite as good looking as the one before her. His sinewy figure hovers daintily in the feeble light, the most astute crimson eyes she's ever laid on stares back at her with an unfathomable expression with an endearing smile that fits him rather nicely.

He salutes, his jet black hair framing his face immaculately, "Marshall Lee, at your service."

The edges of her lips tilt slightly wryly, "Glad to hear it."

Marshall leans on the ball of his feet as he shrugs and says, "Well a beautiful night for your_ first,_ right?"

She's twitching slightly at the possible sexual innuendo, but she doesn't comment on it, "Well, no time like the present."

For a second she see his lips abscond into a tight frown, but it leaves as quickly as it came and he chooses to smile weakly. The plaid shirt he has on is simple and clean, she looks like a homeless child out of tears on the streets compared to him, dressed neatly in slick crisp and unsoiled clothing she currently envies him for.

"It doesn't hurt. I promise." He puts forward, there's a guilt in his eyes as he draws nearer.

She breaks into shivers when his fingertips reach the coolness of her pale skin. Goosebumps unravel wildly on her arms.

"I don't believe you," she begins, "But that's alright."

* * *

**1000**

* * *

Marceline is a **thousand** years old.

Bonnibel left merely minutes ago, Finn and Jake tagging along obediently by her side. She doesn't tire physically really, it's a benefit she'd been granted from her father all those years ago- but she does tire emotionally. Sometimes thinking about the past makes her sad, sometimes she doesn't really feel anything, but sometimes she thinks that maybe all these old thoughts resurfacing may be easier to endure compared to one of Bubblegum's frilly pink parties laced with satin, silk and- _whatever._

She only teases PB, her parties aren't unbearable.

To quote Finn, "_You need to slow down and just chill Marcy._"

Maybe he's right. The party next week surely won't help much- she _loathes_ uncomfortable social gatherings in tight clothing she's sure Bonnibel will enforce as a regulation for the formal attire.

Sure her parties are unbearable, but sometimes _Bubblegum's _unbearable.

* * *

___**AN: **This was based on the episode 'I Remember You', Marceline's past is by far actually the most uncovered in relation to the mushroom war and I find it extremely interesting~ Of course I then had to write a pre/post war story that included Marcelee (because why not?). Most of this will eventually prove to never have even been considered to be slightly canon but I felt like I should put my own share in the whole Mushroom War thing, so here it is._

_To clear up, if that was vague, Marceline's mother in this story was human and Marceline's father being a pure Vampire. I'm not sure at all if there's even a slight chance of Marceline being human before the Mushroom War, at any point, but this is I guess an AU in a way- yes Marshall is already a Vampire during their encounter._

_Anyway more about Marshall/Marceline and their encounter to come, but I hope you guys like it._


End file.
